Agents: Behind Closed Doors
by Overlord Mordax
Summary: Jones glitches and sees Greer dying.


A/N: Be warned, this fic contains slash, lots of it.  
  
Disclaimer: The Matrix belongs to the Wachowskis. Mimosa is Stormhawk's, Zane is Redpony's and Greer is mine.  
  
Agents: Behind Closed Doors  
  
Jones shivered as Greer pulled him into an embrace, he looked up, green eyes locking with midnight blue. The recruit leaned down, pressing his lips to Jones'.  
  
This is perfection, was Jones only thought as they kissed. But he sensed that something was wrong as Greer drew back and Jones found himself looking into a face that was quickly becoming unrecognizable. Strands of grey were replacing those of raven, and Greer's face was becoming tight and drawn in some places, loose and wrinkled in others. Jones gasped with horror, clapping one hand over his mouth, and with the other, grabbing a hold of the recruit's withering hand.  
  
"Greer, what's wrong? What's happening?" Jones demanded, choking on his words in panic. But he already knew what was going on. Greer was growing old before his eyes.  
  
The recruit opened his mouth to speak, but managed only a whispered "Jones," before he had wasted away completely, and the hand that Jones clutched was that of a skeleton.  
  
Then it broke into dust and Jones screamed.  
  
***  
  
He was still screaming when he found himself sprawled on the floor of his office.  
  
The door flew open and Jones stifled his scream with a hoarse gasp, which turned itself into dry, racking sobs. He heaved himself up on his hands and knees, and looked up. Smith was standing in the doorway.  
  
"Agent Jones?" Smith inquired with a note of concern.  
  
"-Greer," Jones choked.  
  
"Recruit Greer is in the training hall, I believe," he paused only slightly. "It appears you have experienced a glitch, Jones."  
  
The tech agent stopped mid sob, his eyes widening. A glitch? Yes, a glitch, it was only, only a glitch. He closed his eyes for a moment in relief.  
  
"Yes," he said, composing himself. "It was, most unpleasant."  
  
"It would appear so. Do you require any assistance?"  
  
"No," Jones said firmly, gripping the edge of his desk and pulling himself to his feet, trying to attain a more dignified posture. "I am certain I will be fine in a moment."  
  
Smith raised his eyebrows slightly, but said, "Very well, if you are certain."  
  
He nodded and straightened his tie. Smith stood there.  
  
Jones said finally, "I am sure you have matters to attend to, Agent Smith, as do I."  
  
Smith nodded, and finally left. As soon as he was gone, Jones slumped down in his swiveling chair, required the door to shut itself and buried his face in his hands.  
  
It was the most terrifying glitch he had ever had. He had though that Greer had really, had really...  
  
Jones choked and gripped his hands on the desk. Oh how human he had become, full of fear and doubt and love for this man. What a burden these emotions were. It had been only a glitch, but he knew the fear that had brought it on. It had been tormenting him these past months. Greer was human, and he would one day die, whether it was tomorrow at the hands of a rebel, or in 80 years as a frail, sick old man.  
  
Jones swallowed harshly and wiped his eyes free of tears. Greer was going to die and he would continue forever, sick with grief. It was inevitable.  
  
The only chance was for Greer to be made an Agent, but that had only happened twice, and with it's past success record Jones was in no way certain of the Mainframe's willingness to do it once more. He was equally unsure of his ability to argue Greer's case properly. That he was a model recruit no one could dispute, one of the best they'd ever had, but was it enough to merit his being made an Agent?  
  
There was a knock at the door and Jones sat up quickly, and glanced at his ever-running monitors. It was Greer.  
  
"C-come in," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, and requiring his suit unrumpled, and the tearstains from his face.  
  
The door opened and Greer walked through the doorway, wearing a midnight blue tank top and grey sweatpants. He had just gotten out of the shower after training. His damp hair hung loose around his waist and beads of water shimmered on his muscled shoulders; the smell of perfumed soaps clung to him. Jones felt vaguely dizzy.  
  
"Heya Jonesy," Greer grinned broadly.  
  
Jones smiled and required a chair with a wave of his hand, where Greer immediately plopped down and scooted it towards the agent.  
  
"Hello Greer, how was your training?"  
  
The recruit shrugged fluidly. "Just training. I have patrol later this evening on the mall circuit."  
  
Jones nodded, watching him dreamily. How could something so elegant die? It would be a travesty.  
  
"But that's not 'til this evening. Up for a game of VWS?" he asked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together excitedly.  
  
Jones blinked, and a smile broke over his face. "You reminded me," he exclaimed, excited and distracted now. "I have something to show you."  
  
"Oh?" Greer grinned slyly and leaned over gripping the arm of his chair, his aquiline nose brushing the Agent's cheek. "What would that be?"  
  
Jones blushed at the contact and the recruit's warm breath, and quickly brought up a page of the internet on the large monitor in front of his desk. "This."  
  
Greer looked up and read aloud, "'Virtual World That Seems Really Real Smackdown, the newest craze in online gaming. Free to download, play in story mode, or in Versus mode with your friends, total strangers, or that creepy guy from the supermarket'," he snorted and continued. "VWS features realistic martial arts and interactive environments while you play as one of a wide selection of kooky characters.'" He shook his head. "You really did it!"  
  
Jones smirked. "Indeed. I put together the site last night in my spare time and launched it this morning. I sent the address to all of the potentials who are currently under our watch as well."  
  
Greer chuckled. "You didn't."  
  
"I did. I felt that it would make it easier to explain as anti-rebel propaganda if I did so. As you said, to make our enemies look ridiculous."  
  
"...Jones..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Won't it make us look ridiculous too?" he raised an eyebrow.  
  
Jones opened his mouth, closed it again, held up one finger, opened it, closed it again, and finally said, "Damn," slumping down in his chair.  
  
Greer burst out laughing.  
  
Jones eyed him, pouting. "What?"  
  
"I think that's the first time I've heard you swear," Greer said, as his chuckles subsided.  
  
"...well, it seemed appropriate," he muttered.  
  
The recruit shook his head. "Don't worry, Jones, Brown doesn't like recruits anyway."  
  
"I doubt that will stop him from pointing out that flaw however."  
  
"Oh Jones, you worry too much," Greer leaned over, and grasping Jones tie, pulled him down into passionate kiss.  
  
The agent relaxed his weight on Greer's chest, running his fingers through his damp hair. But an image of the recruit, withered and dieing flashed in Jones' mind and he pulled away suddenly.  
  
Greer had hold of his wrist, and asked concernedly, "What's wrong, Jones?"  
  
Jones couldn't look at him. "I, I have work I must do, Greer. If I do not perform my function the mainframe will delete me."  
  
Greer sighed. "Yeah. I guess it will. God damn it," he snarled, "why can't we ever have a moment to ourselves?"  
  
"Because," Jones said, looking at him with sad, green eyes. "you are a recruit and I am an agent. You know that I am technically only off duty from 4 am to 7 am, and any other time we spend together must be stolen and concealed."  
  
Greer nodded gruffly. "I'll see you later then."  
  
"Alright. Be careful on your patrol."  
  
"I will." Greer kissed him once more, "I love you."  
  
"I love you, Greer."  
  
The recruit stood up and left the room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
***  
  
As he worked Jones kept a close eye on the monitor that tracked Greer while he was on patrol. So far he and his partner, today the recruit Zane, had encountered no problems, but they were coming up on Hot Topic, the goth/punk store which was a hot spot for rebel activity.  
  
The two recruits walked into the small, poorly lit store, surrounded by racks of spiked jewelry, and shirts with witty legends. They were greeted by a store clerk with bubblegum pink hair and a number of piercings. Greer and Zane exchanged a significant glance and headed to opposite corners of the store, watching the few occupants carefully.  
  
While a diagnostic ran, Jones took a good look at what Greer was wearing, a black shirt with only one sleeve emblazoned with an emerald serpent that coiled around his stomach and up his arm, it's triangle head ending at the bottom of his left middle finger, held in place by a sliver ring. Below he wore shiny faux-leather pants that clung to his hips exposing his midriff, a belt of silver ovals hung to one side, and high healed boots with blue- flame laces. His long hair was pulled back with a scrap of brown leather.  
  
Greer browsed the jewelry for a moment or rather pretended to as he listened in on the conversations going on in the store. He shook his head and signaled across the room to Zane, who was looking at trench coats, for them to move on. The two of them started to leave the store, but the clerk with the pink hair, raised a gun.  
  
"Oh no you don't, agents" the woman said, and instantly, all five of the other shoppers in the store had guns out. They were all rebels!  
  
Zane and Greer required guns as well, and fighting erupted, the kind of wild, graceful, lawless battle that always ensued between rebels and recruits. One rebel was killed barely a second after the fight began, but it was still five against two.  
  
Jones watched rapt and worried.  
  
Greer was handspringing off the walls trying to catch one of the rebels off guard, but he was caught himself, and a shot from the clerk tagged him in the shoulder. He whirled around midair and landed feet splayed, one hand on the ground like spider-man, and brought his gun up as a katana. He dashed forward, and the woman skittered back, trying to find a better range to shoot at. Another rebel leapt into the fray, knocking Greer of balance so that his sword slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor and all of his attention was absorbed dodging the hail of bullets aimed at him.  
  
The first ran out of bullets a split second before the other, the same time that a third rebel escaped from Zane and attacked Greer. The recruit's shoulder was covered in sticky, crimson blood from his wound and as the other rebel used his last shot Greer leapt at him, requiring another katana as he wrestled him to the floor and slit his throat. he leapt back up to face the other two, who rushed him at the same time.  
  
Greer leapt to the left to avoid the two, who crashed into a clothes rack, and spun around, just in time to see another rebel's bullet as it ripped through his face, spattering blood. He fell dead.  
  
Jones stared, mouth agape, face ashen. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!"  
  
***  
  
"Nooooooooooo!!!!"  
  
Someone was grabbing his shoulders. "Jones, Jones, wake up!! Jones!" They smacked him across the face.  
  
The agent's eyes flew open to find Greer, in suit and shades, with one hand held tight to his should, the other held ready to strike.  
  
"Greer?" Jones trembled, his face stinging.  
  
"I'm here, Jones."  
  
The agent wrapped his arms around him, clinging to him like a child.  
  
"I thought...I thought you were dead..."  
  
"You had a nightmare," Greer said softly, stroking his face.  
  
"A glitch, but it's the same thing, I suppose," Jones whispered unevenly.  
  
"It's okay. I'm sorry I hit you. You were screaming, and I didn't know how to wake you up."  
  
"It's alright," he looked up at Greer. "Thank you."  
  
Greer held him silently for a few moments.  
  
"You dreamed I was dead?"  
  
"Yes," he admitted, ashamed.  
  
"I'm sorry," Greer told him.  
  
"For what?" Jones asked confused.  
  
"That I make you worry so much." He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on the agent's forehead.  
  
"No, it's my own fault..."  
  
"Oh, so now not only are you a worry-wart but you're also going to go on a big guilt trip too, huh?"  
  
Jones smiled wanly.  
  
Greer pulled him close and just held him for a while.  
  
"So are you alright now?"  
  
Jones nodded. He did feel better.  
  
"And is Stef likely to come barging in?"  
  
"No," Jones said softly. "She's out on assignment."  
  
"Well then," Greer grinned and lifted Jones face up to his. "Shall we make use of our precious little time alone?"  
  
"Lets," Jones smiled.  
  
Greer gabbed the agent's tie pulling him even closer than before, and initiated a long, slow kiss. Their two bodies entangled, somewhere in the kiss, Jones found himself off his own chair and sitting in Greer's lap.  
  
The door flew open unceremoniously. "Jones I need to speak with-"  
  
Greer leapt up suddenly, causing Jones to fall to the floor.  
  
Brown's eyes lit with horror as he drew his gun. "I knew it," he snarled leaping at Greer, he knocked the recruit to the floor.  
  
"No!" Jones yelped horrified. "It's not what it looks like!" He too joined the fray on the ground. He tried to require his gun, but nothing happened, he'd been cut off from the mainframe, and by Greer's empty-handedness so had he.  
  
But Brown had a gun, and Jones grasped for it, even as Brown tried to aim it properly at Greer. Finally he had his hand over Brown's and he yanked hard, just as Brown was pulling the trigger.  
  
He had the gun, Jones thought triumphantly, for one instant. But, but why wasn't Greer struggling any more?  
  
He looked down. There was blood covering Greer's face, what was left of it.  
  
Jones fell to his knees, clawing at his own face, drawing blood that mixed and burned with his salty tears, and hair fell in front of his eyes. "Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!"  
  
Brown looked at him mercilessly. "You're next, corrupted filth." He required another gun, and Jones could barely see him pointing it.  
  
"Jones," Brown snarled.  
  
***  
  
"Jones! Jones!!" Somebody was grabbing his wrists.  
  
"Just delete me! Delete me!!" Jones wailed. "I let him down! I let him die!!"  
  
"Open your eyes Jones! It's me, Stef Mimosa!"  
  
"No, no!" he moaned piteously.  
  
"God dammit Jones!" Someone grabbed his eyelid and forced it open.  
  
Through a slightly red haze he saw Stef on her knees in front of him, looking panicked and a bit angry. She was holding his eye open.  
  
"Stef?" he whispered.  
  
"I'll let you go now." She withdrew her hand and Jones opened his eyes by himself. He was kneeling on the floor of his office.  
  
"Why is everything red?" he whispered.  
  
Mimosa's eyes flickered down to his hands and he looked. They were covered in blood. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat and brought one hand gingerly up to his face. It stung like mad, and he could feel the wetness there.  
  
"Wh-ah?"  
  
"I was outside your office and I heard you screaming that you deserved to be deleted," Stef said gently, the anger drained from her _expression. "I came in and you were clawing at your face. Would you like me to-" she left the question hanging and required a damp cloth.  
  
"No," he touched his face again, and required the blood gone, and the scratched to heal themselves. But his face still stung as though the cuts were fresh.  
  
"It was a glitch, wasn't it?" she continued.  
  
"It, it must have been. I had one earlier...What time is it?"  
  
"It's about 10:30 pm."  
  
"And...where is recruit Greer?"  
  
"He's still on patrol. Was the glitch about Greer? Did he want to delete you?"  
  
"No!" Jones said, a little too sharply, and wrapped his own arms around his shoulders. "No," he said more softly.  
  
Mimosa's eyes were large and soft and full of compassion. She reached out her hand to him, which suddenly had in it a large glass of white liquid. "Here."  
  
Jones first thought was, for some reason, that it was poison. "What, is it?"  
  
"It's warm milk. I think it will help calm you down." She proffered the glass to him.  
  
"I, I don't need food or drink," he insisted.  
  
"I know, but it always helps me feel better."  
  
"You were human," he said, looking at her.  
  
"Yes," she said, and then thoughtfully. "How about this, it will make me feel better about walking in on you self-mutilating in the middle of a glitch, if you drink the milk."  
  
Jones reached a shaking hand out and took the glass. He took a sip, the sensation was oddly  
  
calming. He sat there in silence for a moment, drinking until the glass was drained.  
  
"Do you feel better now?" he asked Stef quietly.  
  
The woman laughed, and then sobered quickly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I was supposed to ask you that." She paused. "Do you feel better now?"  
  
"Some," he admitted, looking down into the empty glass.  
  
"Good," she paused, letting him sit there a moment more. "Would you like to talk about it?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because talking about a nightmare helps it go away."  
  
"But why should you care if I feel better?"  
  
"Because you're my friend Agent Jones."  
  
"Agent's aren't supposed to have friends," he muttered to himself. And he knew why, too. Because friends distracted you. Friends made you hurt.  
  
"But they do," she admonished. "Agents have feelings, I know for a fact. And don't try to deny it, I've seen VWS." She smiled at him.  
  
Jones grimaced. "It is because I am imperfect."  
  
"Duh. Nobody's perfect."  
  
He lifted his head slightly. "Agent Brown would dispute that."  
  
"Agent Brown has a stick shoved permanently up his ass."  
  
Jones winced. "It is not wise to say such things."  
  
"Are you going to report me to the mainframe?" Stef asked sharply.  
  
"Of course not," he said, taken aback.  
  
"Well I'm not going to report any of your little 'faults' either. Nightmares and glitches don't happen for no reason. Especially not ones as bad as you were obviously having. Please tell me what's wrong Jones. You can trust me."  
  
Should he tell her? Could he tell her? What was he going to tell her?  
  
"It is not that simple," Jones said.  
  
"Things in this world never are," she replied, and he thought he heard her mutter something.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
She shook her head. "Just cursing the 'fates' that's all."  
  
Jones smiled ironically. "If I believed in your human concept of deities, I would have to say that they are being especially cruel of late."  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
"Stef, if, if I tell you about my glitches and what is causing them, you must tell no one. Ever."  
  
"I promise," she said sincerely, drawing a cross over her heart with a finger.  
  
"Never."  
  
"Not a word."  
  
Jones too another gulping breath. "You, might have noticed that Recruit Greer is in my office quit a lot," he began, unsure of himself.  
  
She nodded. "Its pretty obvious that you two are friends."  
  
Jones winced. "I wish it were not quite so obvious, but it is difficult. I- " He paused, wondering what to say. "Did Greer ever speak to you about a girl named Katrina?"  
  
Mimosa smirked. "He mentioned her to me a few times. Quite a few times actually. Though, now that I think about it he hasn't said anything about her in a while."  
  
Jones nodded. "A few months ago, when Greer was still a fresh recruit, the mainframe ordered me to conduct an experiment. It was the same time that recruits were given their leisure time actually."  
  
"What was the experiment?" She asked, impatient for him to continue.  
  
"It wanted, for some reason to learn about human affection. I was to monitor him on his time off and watch how he responded to women. But Greer did not interact with them the way that the mainframe expected, and it instructed me to create a construct to interact with Greer. That construct was Katrina."  
  
Stef groaned, "So you're afraid he'll find out she's not real and hate you for it?"  
  
Jones almost smiled. "That was my original fear. However, after he was shot by Anderson I... I told him, and..." his voice refused to cooperate.  
  
"Well," she said thoughtfully, "he obviously doesn't hate you, so..." she furrowed her brow.  
  
"No, he does not hate me," he said slowly, looking down.  
  
"Well then?"  
  
He coughed slightly and his cheeks reddened. He said very quickly," We are involved. Romantically."  
  
Stef couldn't bite back a snort of surprise and amusement. "Really?"  
  
"Yes. I told him, how I felt and he said, that he, felt the same way."  
  
"Well that's great Jones, I'm really happy for you!"  
  
Jones was bright red. "Thank you," he said with embarrassment.  
  
"And when I kept walking, in and you two said you were playing VWS..."  
  
After Stef had stopped giggling to herself and Jones had regained his normal skin tone, Mimosa asked. "So why don't you tell me about that glitch."  
  
"There are several," Jones said quietly, becoming melancholy again. "One where he grows old and dies before my eyes, one where he is killed by rebels, and one, where, where....Brown catches us, and kills him, and then deletes me. That is the one that you found me having."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I am so afraid," he continued, "because I know he is going to die. I did not think about it so much before his coma, and before he was trapped in the beta-matrix. But then I began to realize that he is mortal. Even if he dies fighting rebels, I do not know that the mainframe will make him an Agent. I do not know if I can persuade it too. And if it does not then no matter how good a fighter is, and how many times I rescue him he will still die, and I will be alone forever."  
  
"Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die."  
  
Jones looked up confused. "Who?"  
  
"It's from a movie. Lord of the Rings. You'd like it." She paused. "You know the crew of rebels who got plugged back in?"  
  
"Yes, the Exodus. But I do not see..."  
  
"Darth and I are, as you put it, romantically involved."  
  
He looked at her as she kept talking.  
  
"He's going to die one day. and I'm not, and he'll get old and I won't. Will I still love him with grey hair and wrinkles, I wonder sometimes. I can almost never find time to be with him, and I can't imagine why he puts up with it, and I know that if Brown ever found out he'd try to say it was grounds for my deletion. So you see I know exactly how you feel."  
  
"I had no idea," he said, taken aback. "I am sorry if I made you upset."  
  
"Tch. I didn't tell you to make you feel guilty Jones. I told you because I wanted you to know that there was someone who felt your pain, and someone you could talk to."  
  
He smiled at her, "Thank you, Stef...It is, appropriate to hug you, at this point?"  
  
She chuckled and gave him a hug.  
  
"I can see why Greer likes you," she said, "you're cuddly."  
  
Jones blushed a bit.  
  
"Stef, in The Lord of the Rings, what happens to Aragorn?" he asked cautiously.  
  
Her smile faded. "Arwen, his immortal lover, stays with him, until he dies, and then for a long time afterward."  
  
He sighed.  
  
"But I promise I'll help you talk the mainframe into making Greer an agent. Just promise me you'll tell me if you have any bright ideas about Darth."  
  
"I will." Jones looked at her thankfully. And then realized that they were still both sitting on the floor. "Stef, would you like a chair?" he asked.  
  
She smirked, standing. "Sure," she said, and offered him a hand up.  
  
He took it and stood.  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"I'll get it," Mimosa said with a smile, and opened the door.  
  
It was Greer.  
  
"Stef?" he asked, surprised to see her. "What are you doing in here?"  
  
"Jones is cheating on you with me," she grinned wryly.  
  
Greer looked panic stricken. "Jones," he said hoarsely.  
  
"She is joking, Greer, and I told her." He rolled his eyes at Mimosa. "I will thank you to keep you hands off my boyfriend." He took Greer's hand and pulled him inside.  
  
Greer's eyebrows were raised so high Jones was surprised they hadn't disappeared into his hairline. Mimosa was giggling amusedly.  
  
"Can somebody please tell me what is going on?" the recruit demanded.  
  
"Stef and I were talking."  
  
"About us?" Greer goggled.  
  
"Don't worry kid," Stef smirked at him. "It was just girl-talk."  
  
Jones groaned. "Enough Mimosa. Please?"  
  
"Okay, okay, I'll leave you two alone." She sauntered out of the office, closing the door behind her.  
  
Greer stared at Jones. "I am very, very confused."  
  
Jones shook his head and muttered, "she is going to be making jokes forever." Then he smiled at Greer. "Have a seat Greer," he required a chair. "I will tell you what is going on, if you like."  
  
"That sounds like an idea. But..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Stef said she'd leave us alone?"  
  
"That is what she said."  
  
Greer scooted his swiveling chair closer to Jones. "Then I think explanations can wait a while."  
  
The End...  
  
For now 


End file.
